#dapper-rogue

[luke-shywalker]

Huh, text limit on asks is annoying. I’m not actually concerned about the social media/phone usage, I was more concerned about invading your privacy? Even tho all these posts are public, there’s a certain amount of privacy that comes from existing in some small corner of the internet. I was just concerned if I was seeing stuff that I shouldn’t be. Also until recently, I never disclosed to you how often I looked at your blog, only that I did look at it. I do feel bad about that, so I apologize. I think I probably look at your blog like 1-3 times a day for a few minutes. I’m always surprised by how much you post each day. It’s very entertaining.

Anyways, I don’t want to make you self-conscious or feel like you should post less deranged stuff because your IRL friend is looking at them, so I can totally stop if you would like to retain your private little corner of the internet. Anyways, byeee

I don’t mind XD I take your stalking as a manifestation of love. LOL

WOW AM I REALLY THAT ENTERTAINING?? ...sick *air punch*

yes i uh. i am also surprised by how much i post. when i am. you know. at my place of employment. haha

Your presence is hardly enough to keep me from acting deranged, do not fret >:D it just means I will probably now act more deranged in front of you in real life. lol

but the real question is. when are you gonna start posting????? >:)

see you........later tonight probably i guess LOL

[vividrogue]

Guys who are covered in tats and a pair of hands that can kill me >>>

Also I have a BlueSky, so see it full there

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Slowly replacing Astarion's clothing in game is really like... significant.

He never got given anything new. If he stole or bought new things they must have been taken from him- just think about his skills as a rogue, the nights he was out, and yet his clothing is ancient and repaired many times and it'll click for ya

So when you get him new armor, putting away the faded filigree from 200 years- an outfit outdated but so dapper it may very well have been what he'd been buried in as a noble the night he clawed his way out of his coffin to get to Cazador - it just kinda hits different.

Now, in the context of the game of course your armor changes many times, you take what you can get and don't get attached cause you're likely to need to replace it for an upgrade soon etc etc.

But his camp outfit. The threadbare, carefully laundered ruffled shirt and leather pants that have been re-stitched along the seams untold times so he can remain presentable. To show he cares. To show its important to him to look good. If you choose to give him new clothes to wear every night,

You're giving him (likely, unless his clothing got rarely replaced due to being utterly destroyed during torture or accident) his first new wardrobe since he was alive

Comfortable thick fabrics that were put together within the last decade, not the last century. He can't see himself, doesn't know how it really looks, but he can stare down and guess. You can dye his clothing too, and if you take that as literal (like magic dye that can change clothing could exist and not just be a game nechanic for the player to play with) then you can imagine him going through seller's wares when you find them, picking out the rarer dyes in his favorite colors.

Making his new clothing his

Wearing something that he's never had to lure someone to their death in for his Master. Wearing something completely separate from his past.

And maybe carefully folding his old outfits, putting them away in a traveller's chest. Maybe he feels attached to them, like that rag of a blanket we see him taking with him places. Maybe he keeps them forever. Maybe not. Maybe after everything's said and done, he burns his old clothes.

I have feelings about Astarion and his relationship with clothing and armor OK 🥺

[a-roguish-gambit]

So I kept bringing up rogue’s bicycle suit and one of my fanfics…..

Gambit really likes it. He thinks she looks incredibly dapper in it.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hey Dapper - this might not be from you, but I'm looking for this post about wizards, and how the OP almost felt bad for them? In the sense that wizards, by their nature, learned/became better by pushing boundaries, unlike sorcerers or warlocks, and as such there is no natural stopping point, so they're essentially doomed to death by explosion, divine intervention or lichdom. I really liked the takes on it, but can't find it - does this ring any bells? Thanks!

Nope, not me sorry!

IMO though, I think the results here are being skewed by wizard protagonists and antagonists (aka hubris georgs), and not the every day dabblers or background practitioners who are just as common and content as your average town blacksmiths.

The D&D world is a magical world after all, and so you'd need someone around to fix the miscellaneous magical problems that occur in every day life just like you need tinkers and other handyfolk.

Did your wagon pick up a jinx somewhere and now the wheel keeps falling off? Go see the wizard.

Has that self-sweeping broom you picked up from the market gone a bit rogue? Go see the wizard.

Was your bakery built over a layline so it keeps conjuring fire elementls when you burn the bread? Go see the wizard.

[deny-the-issue]

Oblivious and in Love

Summary: Rook's relationship with Emmrich blooms among the thorns. !Spoiler warning! This oneshot takes you through the events of DATV, and while I do not go into great detail, there are still many spoilers.

Thank you so much to @juniper-sunny for beta reading <3

AO3 link

Link to divider

I have a multi-chapter Emmrich x Reader taking over my brain, so be on the lookout for more Emmrich fanfics from me! Also art. Lots of art.

[MDNI] [Emmrich x fem!Rook] [Emmrich x you] [Mourn Watch Rook] [Fluff] [angst] [smut] [hurt/comfort] [no gender pronouns] [Neurodivergent coded reader] [fingering] [vaginal sex] [3.8k words]

Your pining for Emmrich started as a pleasant distraction from calamity. Who wouldn’t want to daydream about a dapper necromancer sweeping you off your feet with his charismatic charms in between battling ancient elven gods?

But that’s all you thought it was. A daydream. Why would an esteemed scholar of the Mourn Watch pay a young upstart any mind? He treated you with kindness and grace, just like with every other living thing he encountered. 

You admire that most about him, you think. His reverence for life. It goes far beyond anything the Mourn Watch teaches. He invokes the spirits of the dead with the grace of a seasoned conductor, the magic of the fade as his orchestra, all at the whims of his deft hands. 

The etheric dance of his fingers entrances you, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in other ways.

Tonight, you cannot get them out of your mind. It doesn’t help that you had a strange interaction with him earlier that you still haven’t processed. 

Walking back to your room, you run into Taash. Quite literally a full-body collision with the immovable force that is Taash.

“Shit, what’s wrong with you?” Taash grumbles.

“S-sorry!” you stammer out an apology but stumble on the excuse.

“Out with it.” Taash crosses their arms and frowns.

Sighing heavily, you concede. Maybe Taash could give you an outside perspective. You trust her to not sugarcoat things. And, after all, they were there. 

“Ya’know, earlier? When you scratched my back?”

“Yeah?” 

“Did I do something wrong? Emmrich was acting…”

“I thought he was going to explode.” Taash smirks. 

“Wait–what? Why?”

“You can’t moan like that in front of the old man. He’s so down bad for you it just might kill him!”

“Hey, it felt good and I couldn’t reach it!” You’re so busy defending yourself you almost missed the point. “...Down bad?”

“Yeah. He wants to kiss you and stuff.” 

You frown in disbelief. For a man with such a way with words, he hasn’t uttered a single passing phrase that could be counted as flirtation. 

Taash’s face settles into a smoldering frown and you start to back away, afraid. “He looks at you with doe-eyes constantly! He gifted you some of your favorite chocolate from the Necropolis! You don’t need my sense of smell to know his intentions.” Taash prods you with a finger to make her point. “You’re both hot for each other! Do something about it.”

Shocked and still processing, Taash is already walking away when the first laugh bubbles its way out. From the aggressively friendly talk to the revelation of Emmrich’s returned feelings, you can only sit idly by as a passenger of your surging emotions. 

Rushing back to your room to close the door, you let out a dampened squeal as you dance around the room before plopping down onto your bed. 

Looking back on it, Emmrich was blushing when he finally found the words to excuse himself. It’s like his brain stopped working for a moment–just like when you complimented him after he discerned the location of the rogue necromancer. 

Life just got a lot brighter, and it’s not just because the outer wall of your room is a big aquarium. 

It wasn’t long after the back-scratching incident that you two shared your first irrefutably romantic moment. You talked over the intricacies of the fade, his envy of your adventures, and then, finally, embracing the elephant in the room. 

You leave his room with a smile so wide it hurts, and no amount of cock-blocking from Manfred could ruin it. 

You love Manfred, but his timing is just awful. 

Things moved so fast after that. The world is in ever more peril, and all you look forward to are your moments alone with Emmrich. Walking through the gardens with him is paradise amidst the chaos. You catch the surge of happiness from yearning returned in his loving gaze. 

How long has he waited for love? How many times has he thought he found it only to be crushed? How many times has he plucked a bloom of Shoud’s kiss to inhale its fragrance alone, wishing for everlasting companionship? 

Emmrich sweeps you off your feet with dulcet tones and lustrous magic. You lose yourself in the moment–in him. He holds your face so sweetly, leaning in to press his soft, warm lips against yours. 

You dream about his touch alone that night, fingers slipping below your underwear. He could have taken you right there on that statue–you wanted him to. Still fighting the urge to go wake him from needed sleep to ride him to bliss, you pretend your hand is his as you pleasure yourself. 

It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough. But it brings you some relief and a lot of clarity. You’ve always moved too fast in your relationships before, and Emmrich is significantly older. The desire was there, you saw it in his eyes and his movements. How his hands slid across your body…

But there’s something holding him back. 

Lichdom lays heavily on his mind, you know, but it’s more than that. Taking it slow will be good for you. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself to try and get some sleep.

It’s unhealthy how much you think of him. Every waking moment outside of battle is spent daydreaming about your potential life together. It keeps a spring in your step amongst the world’s rubble.

How can you not fall head over heels for him when he pulls out all the stops, likely abusing his senior-staff privileges to give you a dinner date you’ll never forget? 

But again, the intimacies that follow are tame. Slow, delicate, teasing kisses and gentle roaming hands. You’re shaking by the time you lock your bedroom door behind you, shedding clothes like a cat sheds fur in summer. Needy fingers rush to circle your slick, throbbing clit. One, two, three times before you cry out his name and collapse onto the bed. Sighing wistfully, you let the undulating muscle spasms carry you off to sleep, knowing the relief is only momentary. 

Just like that, all your romantic interludes come to an end. Now too busy babysitting Hezenkoss’ skull to have any meaningful conversation with you. To top it off, you overheard a conversation between Emmrich and Harding that sowed doubt in your mind.

Does he blame you for choosing Manfred over Lichdom? Or is this residual guilt of having made the most important choice for your loved one?

He has been mopey, Harding’s right about that. Does he truly have a problem with your age? Why hasn’t he talked to you about it? Emmrich isn’t the only one to take Harding’s advice of keeping both eyes open. Where one relationship would have twigs and branches, you’ve seem to hit a brick wall. 

The other couples of the Lighthouse add salt to the wound, and you’re left bereft and all shades of jealous. It’s a good thing, ultimately, you didn’t fuck Emmrich. If you’re moody now, you don’t want to imagine the monster you would have become if you shared your body with him. 

This is different from any love you’ve known. It doesn’t feel healthy–this attachment. Is it because of the end of the world, or do you have to re-evaluate your life choices? Are you being oversensitive, or are his reservations preventing you from going further? 

Plagued with thoughts, you focus on everyone else’s needs but your own. Dwelling on it never helped anyone, and you have to keep your head in the game, right? 

In the hours before heading to the Island to kill two gods, you find yourself pacing outside of Emmrich’s door. This may be your last time you get to feel his lips on yours, if he still wants you.

Yet no such intimacy occurred–only the glacier tipping to show its dark underbelly, and you’re crushed by the waves. With each step away from him, your composure deteriorates. It’s all you can do to rush to your room and shut the door with your back, sliding down its frame as the strength leaves your limbs. 

Dammit. You knew he had a problem with the age difference–why didn’t he just come to you about it? If he cannot trust you with his fears and insecurities, what hope is there for the two of you?

Tears stream down your flushed cheeks, breathing fast and heavy. You’ve only known him a few weeks, how can this feel like your heart is shattering? 

You just wanted a quiet moment with him. One more moment. Is that too much to ask? Before you go off, uncertain if anyone will return? 

Nails dig into your palms as your fists shake with anger. Why did he do this? When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders? And how can you go off to battle like this? 

Unclenching your firsts and hiding your face in them, the darkness is welcoming, and you cry until your eyes are dry, red, and puffy. 

The outburst drained most of your anguish, allowing your rational mind to slowly reawaken on the cold stone floor. 

You did know this was a problem–this argument was not unforeseen. There was certainly a better time for it, but with his fear of death, you cannot fault him. There is a way through this for the two of you; you just hope you live long enough to see it come to fruition. 

The thought of taking someone else into battle crosses your mind. Would you be too distracted to lead with Emmrich by your side? Or even more distracted without him as you worry endlessly about his safety?

You know the answer, even if you don’t like it at the moment. Picking yourself up off the ground, you slowly compose yourself to face the team. 

Somehow, you all manage to reach the island’s shore unnoticed. When it comes time to pick who goes with you, Emmrich cannot meet your gaze. 

When his name spills from your lips, he looks to you with such a soft, grateful expression. 

There is hope for you, afterall. Survival seems that much more palpable with him solidly at your back. 

The first fight puts your worries to ease–you’re even more in sync than unusual. Attuned to each other's movements in a way you haven’t been before. It felt natural.

Emmrich starts to apologize, but you’ve already forgiven him. You see the tenacity of his will to make it through this with you, past words said in times of stress don’t change that. Neither the time or the place for a formal apology, you tell him you’ll talk at home, hiding the tremor in your voice.

You’re right to be scared. Falling to your knees in the Fade prison, angry, confused, and broken, you scream into the abyss. Facing your regrets has never been so hard, and even when you see the way out, you’re unsure you processed any of it. 

When you’re pulled from the prison you fall into Emmrich’s embrace. Lifting your face with a hand under your chin, his tired, worried eyes search you for signs of injury. You would have stayed like that forever if it were up to you. Emmrich glances behind and you follow his gaze. Locking eyes first with Taash, then Lucanis, the weight of the world comes crashing down as they look to you for answers.

Taash’s gaze was the hardest to meet. They lost everything, all with you driving at the helm. Lucanis too, as far as you know. You can’t even ask yourself if there was another way, because it doesn’t matter. You made the hard decisions, and now you have to live with it. 

The group catches you up on the dire situation when you arrive back at the lighthouse. As soon as everyone parts ways, you start to unravel, mind and body. Emmrich reaches through the fog, and asks you to entrust the team with the preparations while you get some rest. 

Asking is the wrong word. Commanding is more appropriate, and you’re left alone in the Library before long. If it were any other time you would blush at such an interaction, but the blood won’t rise to your exhausted face. Your vision blurs and after a barrage of blinking, you sigh, defeated. Sleep is one of the few things that aren’t trying to kill you at the moment, so you concede.

A nap should fix me. 

Walking into your room, your feet stop just before the bed. Body wavering slightly with each breath, shoulders slumped forward, you stare at the rich green fabric.

Not with any purpose–your mind is so shut down you cannot even process why you’re not laying down. 

Rest. You need to rest.

Fingers pulling at your hair, you let out a frustrated growl. How can you lead when you can’t think clearly? And to think clearly you need to sleep? And to sleep you need to lay down on this fucking couch you call a bed?

Turning to look at the fish swimming, the aquamarine light sears your sleepy eyes. 

Oh.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, willing your brain to think. Your mind wanders to the only other unoccupied bed in the lighthouse. As much as you loathe sleeping in the bed once owned by the person that just betrayed and imprisoned you, your desperation for sleep outweighs your simmering hatred. 

You close and cover your eyes to walk through the portals, stumbling to the top of the lighthouse blind to roll into a bed not surrounded by a giant aquarium. Taking off your clothes, the breath of fresh air across your skin is a welcome relief. The only one that would venture up here is Emmrich, and you don’t mind him seeing you in your underwear.

There are more comfortable beds in the world, certainly, but none felt so good as this one. Turning to face the wall, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not the dark of night, but it’ll do. 

The events of the past who-knows-how-long have taken their toll on you, and you spiral into unconsciousness so fast your body jerks violently only to start the process over again. 

It’s a battle against Solas, against Elgar’nan; of course it’s a battle to sleep as well. 

As much as you grumble about it, your mind relaxes soon enough, carrying you off to a deep and dreamless sleep. 

A voice pierces the veil of unconsciousness, and then a shifting of weight on the mattress. Half awake, you feel the warmth of someone sitting beside you. 

“Emmrich?” you ask blindly, too tired to open your eyes. 

“I’m here, my darling.” He touches your arm reassuringly. 

“Stay with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He climbs into bed behind you, kissing your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. 

Your body relaxes in his embrace, and you sigh peacefully as something stirs in your core. His body against yours—the contact begins to drive your sleep-addled mind crazy. Mind awakening more with each breath, a devilish idea forms. The thought-action barrier is thinned when you’re like this, and you’ve waited far too long already. 

You roll your hips back into him, and the soft gasp from Emmrich is all the encouragement you need to keep going. Entwining your fingers with his, you press his hand to your breast as a breathy moan escaping your bitten lips.

“Dearest…” he breathes into your ear, hand gently kneading your bosom. “You need to rest.”

His cock twitches against your backside as you run your hand down his side, pulling him harder against you as you cant your hips. Emmrich delves his face into the crook of your neck, his hips matching your pace. Releasing his grip, his outer hand slides down your body, caressing your curves as his other resumes his hold on your breast. The closer he gets to the smoldering heat between your legs, the more you have to stop yourself from begging. Your body has no such reservations. Lifting your leg, you hook it behind his, inviting him to touch you without a word.

A broken, trembling whimper echoes off the stone when his fingers find their mark over your underwear.

“P-please. Touch me…” The rest of your restraint falls through the grate at the center of the room, raining down on any unfortunate in the Library below.

“Anything for you, my love.” Emmrich kisses your neck as his fingers trace the hem of your panties.

Squirming, you hide your face in your pillow as you giggle. 

Emmrich joins you with a breathy laugh. “Does that tickle?”

You squeal as he continues, bringing your knees together defensively. Devilish man–this was part of his plan. With a proud grin, he yanks your underwear down, taking advantage of your surprise. 

Emmrich lifts your thigh, hooking it over him again. The ambient air hitting your cunt is downright salacious, and the thought of being overheard only adds to your excitement. Want buzzes behind your eyes, your thoughts entangled with the featherlight, teasing touch against your lips. 

With a hand just as skilled as you imagined, he dips a finger into your folds, and hums. “All of this, for me?”

He strokes you, fingers slipping inside, gliding his palm against your hard clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasp, barely able to form the words when each agonizingly slow movement of Emmrich’s hand inches you closer to the edge. “I’m hnn–yours, Emmrich–ah!”

Emmrich trails kisses down your jaw, whispering gentle affirmations with your every twitch and noise. Attuned to you in every way, he plays on the chords of your pleasure with such passionate, practiced patience. 

Toes curling, legs shaking with each pass over your throbbing clit, you fight the building crescendo with every ounce of your will.

“Emmrich, please,” you pant, rolling your hips with the rhythm of his hand. “I need you inside me…”

Your pussy aches from the loss of his hand, and you squeeze your thighs together to dull the want as he kneels on the bed. Normally deft hands fumble over his many buttons, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“Don’t be,” you smile, sitting up so you can aid him.

You set to unbuttoning his vest while he gets a jump start on his shirt, sneaking a kiss just to see him smile. His many layers discarded, he slowly pulls down his trousers, eyes locked on you.

Slack-jawed, you can’t hide your excitement when his cock bounces free. Perfect length, girth, everything, with a bead of precum glistening at the tip. 

“Beautiful man, beautiful cock.” You crash into him, not able to hold back any longer.

Kissing with such passion, you barely feel yourself falling backward until your head hits the pillow. You wrap your legs around him, canting your hips at the feeling of his cock grinding across your soaked cunt.

Moaning unabashedly, you drink in his sounds of bliss. “Emmrich…”

His cock twitches, lining up to your entrance, and he finally pushes in, allowing you to adjust to his size before fucking you slow and steady. You hold him tight, fingers digging in at the divine pleasure. Throwing your head back, your desperate little noises are a harmony to his, perfectly in tune to the obscene, slick overtones of your coupling. 

You tilt your hips upward on the next thrust and he reaches new heights inside, sending a rush of tingling currents from your navel to your toes. 

“I’m c-cumming–” you cut yourself off, crying out as Emmrich fucks into you hard and deep.

Drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth as your body contracts, pussy clamping down on his cock as he pounds the bundle of nerves deep inside of you. Emmrich cries out your name, caught in the tsunami of your pleasure.

You cradle his face in the crook of your neck as you climax together, barely feeling the tell-tale pulse at the base of his cock over the twitching and spasming of your core.

The time wisps by in his tight embrace, but neither of you can bear to break this moment. This peaceful, perfect moment where nothing else exists.

Hair messy, breath hot against your skin as he pants, you hold each other too tight. Fingers digging into flesh, arms tense. Your hands begin to shake as emotions chased away come rushing back with a vengeance. Something warm and wet trickles down your neck. You dismiss it as sweat until your body shakes from the first of Emmrich’s gentle sobs. 

You kiss his forehead, hands rubbing his back soothingly, all too eager to comfort him than to face the storm raging inside. Your vision blurs anyway as tears stream down your face, unable to keep anything back anymore.

“I thought I lost you.” Emmrich confesses, crying harder now. “I put all my effort into creating that damn replica because I couldn’t bear it–” 

“I’m sorry.” You feel guilt snake its way through your guts.

Emmrich pulls away just enough to wipe away your tears, his enchanting eyes filled with such devotion. “It’s ok, dearest. We’re together now, and I’m not letting anything come between us again.”

As much as your soul soars at his declaration, your mental state continues to silently devolve. Too close to hide it, Emmrich is quick to catch on. 

“Please talk to me, dearest. I’m here for you.” He holds your face gently, thumb caressing your cheek.

Lips quivering, a sob rips through your body.

“Oh, my love. You’ve been holding onto so much, let it out.” 

He turns onto his side and you follow, leaning your forehead against his. 

With eyes closed, you take a deep breath, and break down. “Harding is… Harding’s dead. Varric is gone. Neve is dead or blighted. Everything is falling apart. I was never supposed to lead!” you choke down another sob, disgusted with your weakness. “Is this the undead rebellion all over again? I was so sure I was doing the right thing only to be reprimanded and cast out afterward. What if I’m doing this wrong?” 

“Listen to me, Rook,” his calm voice soothes you as much as his embrace. “You’ve made impossible decisions that would humble the best of us. Never once did you doubt us. The losses we’ve endured are meant to break you–the god’s will is cruel.

“When you disappeared, the mere thought of finding you kept this ragged band of heroes together. You took all of our woes unto yourself, asking nothing in return. Truly, you are indomitable–of body and spirit. If anyone can lead us to victory, it’s you.”

His relentless faith in you is both endearing and worrisome. You yearn to be the person reflected in his gorgeous brown eyes, and decide right then and there that you’re going to make it through this. Both of you, alive. Nothing else will do.

“I love you with all my heart, Emmrich.” 

“Oh, dearest. I love you, too.”

Tag list: @gamerheartthrob, @vincetadark, @lunanovagames, @mollymauksboi, @pwney, @roxnpens

[alwaysbemybae]

Azi channels 50 Cent

Look we lost the Antichrist, it was a foul up But we stopped the world ending, that was a team up Heaven and Hell kidnapped and tried to play us for suckers Then we got 'em back good, thank you Agnes Nutter

 Got the Serpent of Eden goin’ Azi you hot I gave my sword away, he gasped and said "you wot" Devoured an ox in Uz, he was spellbound by the sight Now I savor cake and moan, he finds his pants fit too tight

After six thousand years of pinin’ and schemin’ We deserve a lil treat, the rogue angel and demon Ineffable efforts don't stick to the status quo Serpentine anatomy's got two and they're ready to go

You can find me in Hell’s tub basin full of bub'...

This nonsense started when @onedappercat and I were discussing the bubble bath prompt for the GOAD/GOetry Pillow Fight. Dapper suggested Aziraphale imagining the bath in Hell as a bubble bath, and the form of a pantoum, but also said the idea of Aziraphale rapping in his head would be amusing. The pantoum was the official Pillow Fight poem but here's a bonus! Hope you enjoyed it. If you want to give it some love on AO3, it’s here.

@goodomensafterdark

[styluswritesdc]

What about Rogues--namedropping a few: Riddler, Scarecrow, Bane, Clayface, Croc, etc--with a rocker partner? (Idc what gender)

Fun fun fun!! I did this based on my understanding of the English (originated) subculture so I hope its what you want!

Riddler/Edward Nygma

Cool. he thinks its neat.

like obviously this man is more prim and proper but he likes anything that sticks it to the man.

he would've been more of a mod if he had to choose one. (apart form being emo/goth that one time..)

i mean.. he won't appreciate the music so much. unless its lyrics are exceptionally evocative.

would make comments like a conservative father about your mucky leather boots and crusty leather jacket.

he appreciates the values of the culture and would allow you to embroider any of his goons uniform with patches as you wish but.. don't expect to do it to his.

does really enjoy the contrast between your two aesthetics. and needless to say batman is amused when he shows up after you two start dating and there's the dapper, glove wearing, cane wielding Riddler and this roughed up, leatherbound rocker posed next to him.

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

this man was a punk in his teens and you cant tell me otherwise I wont listen lalalala

hell yeah. he will join you in any rallies or protests held, especially in the current political climate. could you imagine what a bit of fear gas would do on the opposite side of the barriers? no more rubber bullets or tear gas for you guys!

genuinely cracks out his old leather jacket. there's lots of old patches that are begging for some repairs and plenty of space for you to decorate if you'd like!

loves the music. this guy listens to everything. from classical to metal and considering his upbringing- country.

thinks your ideals are aligned. you two look quite a pair when the batman shows up.

Bane

fuck yeah kid. keep it up.

this guys all about uprising and revolution. he believes in the people, particularly the youth fighting for their ideals and rights.

he and his men are at any protest or riot in Gotham anyways so expect him to join yours too!.

very supportive.

this man loves leather. he will literally get matching leather boots with you and let you decorate them freely. expect him to wear them until they fall apart and then some!

this man is huge. he needs custom clothes anyways. so if you're good at tailoring or upcycling please make him a cool ass leather jacket.

Clayface/Basil Karlo

again, another guy who dabbled in subcultures during his youth. he definitely tried multiple different ones to find which style fit him best. definitely a bit of a poser though.

he loves the music too. please play it at full blast. he wants to literally feel the vibrations of the speakers in his clay

has definitely played a rocker role in his career so expect him to crack it out to impress you.

he can't often wear clothes but would get his own jacket and boots like yours for when he has the energy to keep his form as a man.

Killer Croc/Waylon Jones

hot. but yeah no as a young teen he tried to find a subculture that excepted him where he fit in, and punk or rocker subcultures welcomed him.

he feels seen by their rejection of normality and societies views and standards.

fuck yeah please make him a big sleeveless leather jacket with a cool insignia in the back. he would literally wear it all the time. he'd sleep in it.

is going to protests for protection and also to attend. he can hold you on his shoulders and carry like three signs too.

it would be so cute if you had a patch on your jacket of a crocodile insignia.... he'd blush every time he saw it.

[ladydracarysao3]

Hey. It's been a awhile since I've been stuck in Dragon Age Hell.

Can I show you some stupid screenshots of my Antivan Crow Rogue Rook? She's got her sights on a dapper older man, and she's avoiding the disappointed gaze of her Crow Dad for not saving their city.

These are pictures I took with my phone of my PS5 Portal. Real high-tech stuff.... Only the highest of quality.

[sofiemystique]

Anya "Rook" de Riva

Meet the Crow Rogue Assassin who isn't too sure about mages and is definitely not sure about Necromancy, but is heading straight to get loved by a Dapper Necromancer. Don't worry I'll be recording their whole romance because the dialogue is definitely different!

[thewardenisonthecase]

veilguard au where everything is the same except we have another rogue companion who is the dapper qunari-

[smille-c]

qPierre lore recap to qAntoine Pierre: yeah so ElQuackity went rogue and kidnapped Dapper Antoine: yeah because he was very calm before <3 Antoine: you know what i think Foolish is the only person i would trust with a gun on this island Pierre: so Pac got kidnapped, the brezilians have a tendancy to get kidnapped Antoine: oh so we're the only who got nothing happening to us then

[a-roguish-gambit]

More turn of the century thoughts

Morph being an elder gay to the kids. Xavier is a big fan of Dr Hershfeild in germany and is thus fostering a queer positive space in his institute.

Despite being early 20th century Catholic, Kurt's early 20th century German background also makes him more progressive than a lot of people in his family's little Iowa German community. (Early 20th century Germany pre 3rd Reich had a brief but hella important queer progressive era) his parents paid for publications from Germany to come to America so he could study without attending a school for a while, and he got quite an eclectic collection of scientific info that way, including sexology papers as he reached adolescence.

And being part of the underground of New Orleans+just the general mardigras culture has made remy very chill with queerness and relatively comfortable with his own for the time period.

Ororo herself also is very open about things coming from a very non western perspective on queerness and Forge never accepted a lot of the white standards of gender and sexuality.

And well, Logan is Morph's wolf so he's absolutely chill with all this. (Wolf was a term in the early 20th century for a gay man or bi man who passed for cishet. Usually it was used in reference to gender conforming bi men as it was most often applied to those who had sex with both men and women as "bisexual" was actually a term to describe someone who was trans at the time.)

So now that all that's been established, onto my plot idea:

Kurt overhears morph talking about the various queer clubs of nyc, which has its own thriving queer community at the time. He asks them if he can see it some time out of curiosity. Mentions how much he's read from queer people but hasn't gotten to meet many and wants to learn more about them. morph and Remy come up with a plan to take whoever wants to to their first fairy ball, licensed drag balls the police couldn't mess with.

Kitty and jean are immediately onboard for the excuse to wear men's clothing for fun. Scott gets dragged along (pun intended) with his girlfriend. Remy convinces rogue with a dapper Gothic suit, and Kurt jumps headlong into the idea having morph fit him for a hoop skirt so he doesn't have to tuck his tail in anywhere. Evan comes but isn't crossdressing, mostly just casually curious. Plus his aunt and Logan promised to tag along too so it doesn't feel like he's doing something he's not supposed to like he might have otherwise.

The kids enjoy the night mostly keeping to themselves but also chatting with couples there, even finding some gay teens that snuck out for the party. They meet some old friends of morph's from Broadway, enjoy some snacks, and is forced to promise to get the kids tickets for their friend's next show. Scott and Kurt get complements on their dresses, a queen giving Kurt her feather boa when she is informed it's his first event. The kid cries feeling like he's the star of a debutante's ball. He's never had this much positive attention from strangers. He feels like he's at home. They all do.

They end up leaving at 2 am as the party wraps up. Most of them passing out on the buggy ride back home. Having had a great evening out, they silently agree, even in their slumber this wasn't going to be the last fairy ball they attend.

[ratlesshonret]

Some OC Introductions

So, I've started writing the sequel story to my currently ongoing Pathfinder campaign. The one where all the OCs I've talked about before are from.

Its a bit premature, I know, given how the campaign is still rather far from ending. But I think this story is something I need to write now before it fades.

So, let me introduce you all to the "first draft" of the main cast.

Tia

Character Song: Through Patches of Violet Likes: Snow, Ghosts, Flowers, Windy Days Dislikes: Romance Novels, Rain, Puns, Jewelry Ancestry: Strix (Songbird) Class: Summoner Age: 19

Hailing from a village deep in the woods, Tia is plagued by a spirit of the winds. Despite being able to summon this spirit, she cannot communicate with it, nor can she make out its appearance. Despite this, others can see it just fine.

Deep in the snow, her secret lies. The grave of the lover she killed. The events of that day haunt her, even now.

The Collector

Character Song: ??? Likes: Dark Places, Music, Smell of Metal, Bread Dislikes: Bright Lights, The Government, Violence Ancestry: Fleshwarp (Technological) Class: Oracle (Ancestors) Age: 25

This unnamed skeletal figure in a dandy top hat and suit used to collect taxes for the government. In their time, they've killed or imprisoned many tax evaders and financial criminals. Their guilt over these actions cannot be understated.

Having escaped the government, they're being hunted even now. Just what will become of our dapper boney lad?

Aria

Character Song: With a Billion Worldful of <3 Likes: Meat, Romance, Hot Showers, Sex Dislikes: Meditation, Cold Water, Hunger, Vegans Ancestry: Catfolk (Winter) Class: Cleric Age: 27

Raised in a religious monastery, Aria gradually developed a romantic interest in her childhood friend, who became a monk at said monastery. In her pursuit of this worldly desire, she still attempts to adhere to the teachings of the temple.

But, being around her long enough gives one the sense that... maybe nothing she says is true?

???

Character Song: Mortal With You Likes: Math, Science, Chemistry, Magic, Textbooks, Drawing Dislikes: Ignorant People, Witches, Fire, Bullying Ancestry: Human...? [Android (Impersonator)] Class: Oracle (Ashes) Age: ???

Nobody knows her name. A mute girl, accused of evil witchcraft wherever she goes. Her knowledge of mathematics, chemistry, and the underlying magic systems of the world is supreme. Communicates primarily through sign language and inhumanly fast drawings.

She once narrowly avoided death in a sub-aquatic facility, due to her immunity to the rotting disease of the mermaids. This experience brought her even more knowledge as to the true nature of the Second Reality.

Julianne

Character Song: ??? Likes: Sleeping, Alcohol, Smoking, Quiet Places, Anime, Dubs Dislikes: Annoying People, Working, Sex, Drama, Subs Ancestry: Elf (Whisper) Class: Rogue Age: 30

A washed up assassin-for-hire, Julianne has a rather casual and laid-back outlook on life. She enjoys getting drunk and sleeping in a random ditch more than actually working or doing anything productive.

She has shady connections in her past, including potentially the devil itself.

Amanda

Character Song: ??? Likes: Blood, Violence, Pretty Women, Cooking, Baking Dislikes: Unrequited Feelings, Spicy Food, Being Alone Ancestry: Human Class: Fighter, Duelist Age: 17

Watch out! She has a knife, and isn't afraid to use it. Your typical yandere type, Amanda isn't opposed to getting violent with those she has an interest in. And like the typical yandere, she's really just scared of being alone.

How the fuck am I gonna do something interesting with this character type? I'll figure it out, I think.

Ji-Hyun

Character Song: ??? Likes: Strategy, Cooperation, Training, Long Books, Sewing Dislikes: Over-Exertion, Loud People, Board Games, Wasting Time Ancestry: Human Class: Swashbuckler, Marshal Age: 59

A master of strategy and fighting styles, this old woman isn't quite past her prime yet. Despite losing most of her power in a fateful battle, her sheer tactical knowledge and battle experience make her a fearsome opponent, even with her now low strength.

Smug and haughty, she knows she's hot shit. Don't mess with an old woman who knows how to use a katana.

Shiruku

Character Song: Bulbel Likes: Art, Children, Meditation, Candles, Fashion Dislikes: Rituals, Corpses, Eyes, Music, Knives Ancestry: Human Class: Magus (Unfurling Brocade) Age: 35

An artist supreme, Shiruku battle with the long sleeves of her beautiful silken dress, magic woven into every thread. The runes carved into her flesh have sealed away her true power, as she wished to go on a journey to discover true art.

Haunted by the perfect painting she once created, Shiruku has tried everything in her power to replicate that perfection, including mastering every possible artistic medium.

Willow

Character Song: ??? Likes: Hitting People, Swearing, Sweet Food, Games Dislikes: Gore, Rudeness, Loud Places, Being Told What to Do Ancestry: Halfling Class: Barbarian (Bloodrager) Age: 10

This young child has grown up in miserable slums, and has learned how to survive as a result. This rude little missy isn't afraid to bash your head in if you annoy her, and to use swears unbecoming of her age if you upset her.

Easily overstimulated, its best to be slow and careful with her. Maybe then, you can draw her out of her hardened shell.

[ego-osbourne]

Time for Business

//click for better image quality//

Believe it or not, this is Ancano.

Not going to say too much out of confirming spoilers, but feel free to speculate. This is Ancano’s business look! A very shiny, dapper rogue-type. Uhrmin is a fake name that he uses

[adleryoung]

Aside from your statement that I looked dapper in my lowfolk disguise, all of your guesses this time were WAY off. I suppose you're not cheating after all.

Unless you guessed wrong deliberately in order to allay my suspicions. Hmm. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that lowfolk have an unlimited capacity for deceit. I've got my eye on you … but for now, let's continue the story.

…

I knocked on the door of the O'Dor cottage, and a somber-looking fellow with a pipe in his mouth emerged.

"Seamus, me boyo!" I exclaimed in what I hoped was a jovial manner. "Long time no see!"

"Who're you?" he asked.

"Phwat!" I flustered. "Sure, it's been a while but don't tell me you've forgotten old Adler!"

"Oh, Adler," Seamus replied with a puzzled squint. "Oi didn't recognize you at first. Come in, come in! It has been a whoile, bedad!"

"Awfully sorry to drop in unannounced," I explained as I stepped inside and hung my hat and cane on the hall tree. It seemed that my glamer was working. "I happened to be in the area and thought I'd pay a visit." All of which was perfectly true.

"MARY!" Seamus called up the stairs. "ADLER'S HERE!"

"Adler??" a muffled voice answered, followed by some scuffling on the second floor.

"CHILDREN!" Seamus exclaimed, with a clap of his hands. "COME AND GREET YOUR UNCLE ADLER!"

Two young skunklings scampered into the parlor, where the elder of them turned and gave a polite curtsy.

"Very noice, Kelly," Seamus nodded approvingly. "Rory, take your finger out of your nose."

"She's grown into a fine slip of a girl," I muttered, staring at Kelly. "Why, if I had a daughter of my own, I'd picture her just like that. And Rory? He'll make a strapping lad one day. I don't believe he was around last time I was here."

"You've been away for a while," Seamus smiled. "We have been greatly blessed in the meantoime."

"Twas Kelly that brought Fuma's blessing to our home," Mary explained as she stepped into the room, holding a small baby in her arms. "We've had such good fortune ever since she came to us."

"Another one?" I asked, staring at the baby. "Seamus, you rogue! And here I was thinking that you two couldn't have children of your own."

"So we believed," Seamus chuckled, "but not long after Kelly arroived, Mary conceived again."

"Oh faith, but oi was terrifoied," Mary admitted. "But Fuma be praised, Rory came to full term and was born healthy - and now we have little Clyde."

"Sure, oi thought it was a joke at first," Seamus said, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking at me earnestly, "but oi do firmly believe it was in fact the King o' the Elves that left Kelly with us that noight."

"I've always suspected that was the case," I declared with barely-suppressed emotion. "Has Kelly shown any … strange talents?"